


Fall to Pieces

by Da_Vinci_101 (Metonic_Cycle)



Series: The Lezio Trilogy [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon Rewrite, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff, Heavy Angst, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Video Game Rewrites
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28833264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Metonic_Cycle/pseuds/Da_Vinci_101
Summary: The young Auditore shivers as the night air gets cooler with each passing second. The sun is well behind the horizon now, and taking its place is the full moon, which bathes Firenze in soft, pale glow. Ezio, after hoisting himself up over the side and onto the top of the tower, takes a moment to appreciate the view. Looking down at the city from high up, on a night like this… it’sbreathtaking.“It is a good life we lead, brother,” Federico declares, patting Ezio on the shoulder.The younger Auditore smiles, crossing his arms and never taking his eyes off the beautiful city sprawling out below. “The best,” Ezio murmurs in agreement. “May it never change.”“And may it never changeus.”
Relationships: Ezio Auditore da Firenze/Leonardo da Vinci, Shaun Hastings/Desmond Miles
Series: The Lezio Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2114115
Comments: 40
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

It all happened so fast, it seemed like a blur. Even now, as Desmond sits there on his bed, knowing full well he should be trying to _sleep_ , to get some semblance of rest after the whole ordeal he’s just been through (after all, it’s not every day you get kidnapped by a secret ancient organisation that seeks control over humanity through the usage of the Pieces of Eden) before he gets tossed back into the Animus. This time, it would be through- _Rebecca_ , is it? Right- _her_ Animus.

The Animus 2.0. A.K.A. “Baby.”

Speaking of babies, Desmond could’ve done well without having to relive Ezio’s _birth_ of all things, thank you very much. No explanation, no matter how scientific or whatever it is, is ever going to relieve him of having _nightmares_ about being _born_. 

_No offense, Ezio, but I’m pretty sure_ you _wouldn’t want to relive your own birth either._

He’s not sure exactly _why_ Lucy made him relive Ezio’s birth- they never had to do that with Altaïr. So why Ezio?? Desmond sighs, flopping back on his bed. He decides maybe he should just ask Lucy in the morning, before he starts yet another brain scrambling session in the Animus. _But it’s not the same Animus. This one was built by Lucy’s friend Rebecca._

Unfortunately, this doesn’t help make him feel any better about the situation.

Rebecca’s nice enough, he supposes. He can see why she and Lucy are friends. Shaun is… well, he’s not very nice. But he only just met the guy like, yesterday, so maybe given time, the historian will warm up to him a little.

Desmond sighs again, turning over onto his side and screwing his eyes shut. He really needs to find the off-switch for his brain at _some point_ , otherwise he’s probably never going to get sleep again. ~~And no, running around as one of your ancestors inside a machine designed to play genetic memories _doesn’t_ count.~~

~~~~

Of course, when Desmond wakes up the next morning and stumbles sleepily into the workspace- earning some insults from Shaun that basically go in one ear and out the other because his brain is just too damn tired to care, let alone bother to try to comprehend them- Lucy’s not there.

Desmond decides to focus on getting himself something to eat, and a nice big mug of coffee too to boot. So he swipes a donut ~~or three~~ from the open box sitting on the little TV tray beside the Animus 2.0, and then heads over to the makeshift kitchen area Rebecca had shown off to him the day before for some coffee. As he munches on his food and sips on his caffeine-loaded drink, he keeps an eye out for Lucy should she come by before he starts his first Animus session for the day.

She doesn’t.

Desmond, after swallowing his last bite of donut, gulps down the remains of his coffee and then rinses the cup out before putting it aside. Lucy _still_ isn’t here. Now that his brain is more or less clear, and no longer fogged up from sleep, Desmond heads back over to the room where the Animus 2.0 proudly sits. Next to it, he sees Rebecca parked in front of her laptop, her fingers flying across the keyboard.

“Hey, Rebecca, I don’t suppose you know where Lucy is?” Desmond asks. _Damn, talk about congestion,_ he thinks as he clears his throat loudly after having spoken.

“She had to meet up with a friend of ours,” Rebecca answers, not looking away from her laptop for even a second. “She’ll be back soon.”

“And good morning to you too, Desmond,” Shaun quips drily from where he sits in the corner. He too isn’t even looking at the soon-to-be-Assassin in question. Instead, he’s focused on his own computer, a bunch of different windows open at the same time. Desmond can’t tell what they are from where he’s standing, he’s too far away. Not that it really matters, since his attention is centred on the historian’s less-than-enthusiastic greeting. “It’s about time you got your ass out of bed.”

“Baby’s ready for you whenever you wanna hop in,” Rebecca tells Desmond, just ignoring her colleague’s words altogether. It takes Desmond a full three and a half seconds to remember that “Baby” is her name for the Animus 2.0. Right. Maybe he should start calling it that in his head, so he remembers.

“Right, right… uh, thanks.” Desmond decides now is as good a time as any. Who knows when Lucy will be back, and anyway, they have little time as it is- he might as well get something done while he waits for her. So he slides onto the red chair-like thing, shivering a bit whenever the cool metal makes contact with his skin. He then looks over when Rebecca stands, her hands moving towards his hoodie’s sleeve. And he groans when he realises why. “Let me guess… IV?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Rebecca offers him an apologetic look as he tugs his sleeve up with one hand and picks up a small, familiar thing with the other.

“It’s fine,” Desmond tells her reassuringly. That doesn’t stop him from grunting in pain and gritting his teeth when she stabs the one end of the IV into the crook of his arm.

“What are you? A tiny _child??”_

_“Shaun!”_

Desmond can already feel his eyelids growing heavy, and the last thing he registers before darkness claims him is something sliding down to either side of his head. For a minute or two, everything is still just black. And then there’s a flash of light. And he’s engulfed by a snowy white expanse of light, one that never ends, one with no markers by which to navigate, no _nothing._

Just him. Then it all seems to collapse, to condense around him…

And then expand.

~~~~

_“Insieme per la vittoria!”_

Ezio flings his fist up high in the air, a small smirk tracing his lips when his words illicit cheering amongst his friends. _“Silenzio, amici mio,”_ he tells them after a moment, lowering his hand. That smirk of his never leaves his face as he goes on to say _“Grazie”_ when they comply. “Do you know what brings us here tonight?” He waits for a response, and when he receives none, he then answers his own question. “Honor! Vieri de’ Pazzi _slanders_ my family’s name, and- as if that alone were not _enough_ \- he _forces_ his own miseries upon us. We-”

A rock skuttles across the ground, bumping into Ezio’s boot and cutting his words short. The young man turns around, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as he glares across the bridge. His eyes meet that of none other than the Pazzi in question.

“Enough of your nonsense, _stronzo,”_ Vieri growls, glaring right back at the Auditore. In his gloved hand, he’s tossing another small stone up and down, no doubt planning on throwing it should he find a reason to do so.

Ezio’s smile curls up further as he shoots back, “Ahh, Vieri! _Buona sera!_ We were just talking about you. To what do I owe the great _displeasure_ of your visit?”

 _“Divertente_. I was about to ask you the same question.”

“Is this about your sister? Don’t tell me she gave me _less_ than five stars-” Ezio laughs upon seeing the scandalised expression on Vieri’s face. He doesn’t laugh long, though. It seems he’s given the Pazzi a reason to throw that rock, if the fact that one had just crashed into his _face_ \- more specifically, his _mouth_. The Auditore reaches his hand up, and his fingers brush the area where the rock had struck. He hisses in pain from the contact, and he can feel the wet stickiness of blood already flowing from the damaged flesh. Ezio doesn’t dwell on it too much, not now- already he can see Vieri and his cronies surging forth.

_“Carica!”_

The bridge explodes into an all-out brawl.

Ezio swings his fist, and it collides with the nearest face. The victim crumples to the ground almost instantly, crying out and clutching his face in pain. The Auditore then whirls around and sees another one of Vieri’s friends standing there, fists raised- but the kid looks very uncertain. He decides he needs to give him some incentive to attack, to lower his guard.

“My _grandmother_ fights better than you!”

That does it.

The kid, who’s now obviously furious at the insult, lunges forward and swings his fist for a punch. Ezio grabs the kid’s arm, fingers digging into his sleeve. He doesn’t waste a second- the Auditore brings the toe of his boot up and kicks him right in the family jewels. _That might leave a mark,_ he thinks as he kicks them a second time for good measure, and then punches the kid right in the face.

As the kid collapses onto the ground with a bloodied nose, Ezio turns his attention to his next target. Said target is currently occupied with kicking one of the Auditore’s knocked-down friends in the stomach. That can very easily be fixed.

“Your _momma_ can’t save you now!”

As the man turns round to retaliate, Ezio’s bloodied and soon-to-also-be-bruised fist collides with his cheek. He then grabs him by the vest with one hand, and starts wailing on the guy’s face some more, only pausing when he hears a familiar voice call out to him. Ezio whips his head to the side and drops his current victim (who is in no shape to continue fighting at this point and is probably glad to no longer be a temporary substitute for a practice dummy), smiling. “Federico!”

“I see baby brother’s been busy,” Federico notes with some amusement.

“You could say that.”

“So- learn how to fight yet?” As if to show off, as he poses this question, Federico blocks a punch that’s being thrown at him with his arm without even _looking_ \- and then whirls to the side, headbutting the not-so-poor _bastardo_ , and then letting his body fall to the ground.

“I took out three of them in the time it took you to show up,” Ezio quips, skipping backwards to dodge a swing. His attempted assailant tumbles over the stone railing of the bridge and falls into the water below with a loud _splash_.

 _“Only_ three??” Federico clicks his tongue in a teasing mock disapproval. “Let us see if we can work on that, hmm, brother?”

“If you insist.”

~~~~

Ezio hisses in pain from the sting of alcohol, and the _dottore_ ’s firm grip on his chin only tightens. “Do you _want_ to die in the next week from infection- _or_ , do you want to live long enough to lead a full and fulfilling life, and grow old with the people you love? Hmm??”

“For a _dottore_ , you have a bedside manner that leav-” The Auditore hisses again as the doctor presses the cloth to the cut on his face a second time.

“You _hush_ , I am almost done.”

Ezio’s eyes narrow in annoyance when he hears Federico chuckling. “Laugh it up, dear brother- laugh it up…”

~~~~

“That’s _cheating,”_ Federico chides from whatever roof he’s currently racing across.

Ezio laughs and calls back as continues to clamber up the front of the church, “Oh, _fratello mio_ \- there’s no shame in losing, you know!”

Federico doesn’t respond. When Ezio starts to pull himself up over the side, his eyes widen in shock and he pauses, elbows resting on the roof tiles, when he sees his brother has clearly beaten him to it. _How??_ Ezio had taken the most direct route. So how could Federico have beaten him so _easily??_ The older Auditore’s lips break into an amused smirk. “That is true, Ezio. There really is no shame in losing.” Ezio laughs, shaking his head, and gratefully accepting the hand his brother offers to him.

The two brothers don’t stop at the roof- at least, Federico doesn’t. He sprints towards the tower sitting atop the middle of the church’s roof, and starts climbing without a second thought. Ezio shrugs, and follows after him.

The young Auditore shivers as the night air gets cooler with each passing second. The sun is well behind the horizon now, and taking its place is the full moon, which bathes Firenze in soft, pale glow. Ezio, after hoisting himself up over the side and onto the top of the tower, takes a moment to appreciate the view. Looking down at the city from high up, on a night like this… it’s _breathtaking_.

“It is a good life we lead, brother,” Federico declares, patting Ezio on the shoulder.

The younger Auditore smiles, crossing his arms and never taking his eyes off the beautiful city sprawling out below. “The best,” Ezio murmurs in agreement. “May it never change.”

“And may it never change _us.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really hard to write fighting scenes lmao skdjsjsjs Especially when Ezio's arsenal is extremely limited atm-


	2. Chapter 2

Running through the streets of Firenze in nothing but his hose is definitely _not_ how Ezio had planned on spending his morning. And yet, here he is, sprinting across the Piazza Mentana, being chased by Christina’s father’s guards, wearing absolutely _nothing_ but his hose.

In all honesty, it could be worse. A _lot_ worse.

He could very easily have been completely _naked_ right now. “She needed help with some, ehh, _things!_ Like Latin! And uhh… how to untie a corset!” _Really, Ezio?_ The young Auditore both mentally and physically facepalms at his own stupidity. “I- that came out wrong- see, what I meant was-” An arrow whizzes past, just missing his arm by inches. _Forget it._ He shakes his head and just keeps running, turning left upon spotting an alley, and practically hurling himself over the brick wall at the end. Ezio’s bare feet hit the stone decorated ground on the other side, and then he’s off, flying down the street, much like an eagle.

Minus said eagle’s _grace._

His head whips to the side, and without a second thought, he hurls himself through the nearest open window and crashes onto the wooden floor inside in a thoroughly sweaty and bruised heap. Ezio just lays there for several seconds, and stiffens when he feels a small, gentle hand settling onto his shoulder.

 _“Mi dispiace,_ Signore. But you had a rather nasty fall coming in through my window, and I wanted to…” The source of the voice, a young man from the sound of it, seems to now be at a loss for words, if his dropping into silence is anything to go by. As Ezio slowly pushes himself up onto his elbows, he feels that hand resting on his shoulder again, and then another hand pressing to his bare chest to help him up. Once the Auditore is finally on his feet, his eyes flick upwards to take in the fully-clothed man standing before him.

Clear grey eyes, light brown hair long enough to barely touch his shoulders, with the faint beginnings of a beard of the same colour, just a small splattering of freckles across his cheekbones… and pink. His clothes are _pink_. The man’s waistcoat is a rosy pink, as is his beret and hose. His long cape, which hangs just above the floor, is slightly darker, but no less vibrant. The only thing the man is wearing that _isn’t_ some shade of pink would be his boots. Those are more of a… burgundy??

“… you are pink,” Ezio says lamely. He hears the guards rushing by outside, barking orders at one another, but he doesn’t care. They’ll never think to look for him in here of all places.

The other man’s eyebrow curls upward, and a small smile spreads across his lips. “That I am. And you are one article of clothing away from being completely naked. You must be Ezio Auditore.”

Ezio groans. _Of course._ “That I am,” he replies with a sort of forced amusement. Out of all the things he could be known for… he ignores the nagging little voice in the back of his head telling him that it’s his own damn fault. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Messere…?”

“Just Leonardo will do.” Ezio nods slowly, in reply and turns his gaze onto the rest of the room. It’s clearly a workshop, a painter’s workshop, no less- though, given the many strange contraptions strewn about the tables _and_ the floor, in addition to various not-finished canvases covered in paint, it’s also clear that Leonardo is more than just an _artista_. _“Dio mio-_ your feet are bleeding!”

Ezio looks down and sees that indeed, just as the other man had pointed out, his feet are bloody. And _cazzo,_ do they _hurt._ “I will be fine- err, do you have some cloth I can-” He gets shoved onto a nearby stool, and when he goes to open his mouth to continue, Leonardo raises a charcoal-stained finger for silence.

“Not another word. I am patching you up, and that’s final,” the painter declares firmly. “Don’t move- I have some medical supplies around here somewhere…”

Ezio releases a huff, and does as he’s told. As he sits there on the stool, listening to Leonardo’s mumblings as he searches one of the cabinets, the Auditore silently prays that the man _doesn’t_ have a stash of _leeches_ in there.

~~~~

After the Auditore’s cut up feet are cleaned and wrapped in fresh bandages, and he’s gotten himself dressed in some clothes Leonardo provided for him, Ezio sits once more on a wooden stool.

“So… what is it exactly that you do here?”

“Hmm?” Leonardo sits down in a chair across from him, in front of which a canvas is propped up on a stand. The _artista_ retrieves a brush from the small table beside the stand, and takes a moment to dip it in some paint before gently swiping the tip along the canvas. “What do I do here? As you can clearly tell, I am a painter. And I am also an inventor.” His lips curl into an amused smile as he turns his gaze onto his guest and asks, “What about you, Ser Ezio? What do _you_ do?”

“Just Ezio will do,” Ezio replies, smirking back at the other man. He then shrugs and answers, “At the moment, I don’t do anything. But I suppose I’ll eventually become a banker, like my father. At least… for now, anyway.”

Leonardo hums thoughtfully, but otherwise, he says nothing on the matter. “Speaking of your father, shouldn’t you be leaving for home by now? Your parents are probably wondering where you are.”

“I should, _sì_ \- but I also would rather avoid a lecture for as long as possible,” Ezio answers with a laugh.

With a snort, Leonardo shoots back, “Honestly, I think the more you put it off, the longer your inevitable lecture will be.” Ezio just shrugs again, his smile widening a little. Silence fills the workshop. But it’s not awkward, or uncomfortable… it’s actually rather relaxing. _Calming_.

He likes it.

And he decides he likes Leonardo too.

~~~~

Ezio eventually does force himself to leave the company of his new- and somewhat eccentric (but in an endearing way- _is that the right word?_ the Auditore wonders)- friend, and return home. He strides into the courtyard, reciting what he plans on saying to his father- and as a result of his being absorbed in his thoughts and not paying attention to his surroundings, he’s suddenly tackled to the ground from behind.

Ezio gasps as his ribs hit the ground, thoroughly knocking the wind out of his lungs. He feels the weight on top of him shift, and then finally get off of him.

“That has to be the first time in… _years_ that I’ve actually managed to catch you off-guard like that, baby brother.” Ezio rolls over onto his back and glares up at Federico, who’s now standing and looking down at his younger brother with his arms crossed and an amused smile spread across his lips.

“You’re a _cazzo di culo_ , you know that, right?”

“So you tell me,” Federico replies, completely unfazed by the comment. He reaches a hand out to Ezio, who accepts it, and he pulls him up onto his feet. “Father is inside, but he’s in the middle of a meeting with a friend of his- Uberto Alberti, I think his name is?”

As he speaks, the front door of the Palazzo swings open, and out step none other than their father Giovanni, and another man in silky, dark purple robes- no doubt Uberto Alberti.

“So you wait another day or two-”

“And much can happen in so short a time,” Giovanni interrupts Uberto with a hushed whisper. He turns his attention to Ezio and Federico, who are now watching them, and then he looks back at Uberto, and then says in a louder voice, “Now if you will excuse me, I must speak to my son about some things.”

“Which one?” Uberto asks with some amusement.

Ezio doesn’t pay too much to what they’re saying. Instead, he’s mainly focused on the fact that his second sight- for the first time- washed over his vision with a will of its own. His father, as usual, is a vivid blue. Not surprising. Everyone in Ezio’s family, as well as anyone he considers a friend- or at the least, an ally- glows blue when he looks upon them with his second sight.

Anyone he deems an enemy- such as Vieri de’ Pazzi- always glow red.

And Uberto glows red. When Ezio’s vision returns to normal, when light and saturation floods it once more, his eyes meet that of his father’s guest. The young Auditore doesn’t like what he sees. He doesn’t even know _what_ it is that he sees.

But whatever it is, it feels _wrong_.

“You must be Ezio Auditore. And Federico.”

Ezio hears Federico muttering in annoyance at having been addressed as if he had been an afterthought.

“Uberto Alberti,” Ezio replies, giving a sharp nod of the head.

Thankfully, Uberto doesn’t say anything more to him- instead, he turns to Giovanni and tells him, “I will send a messenger to you as soon as I know Lorenzo has returned.”

 _“Grazie mille,_ Uberto.”

Ezio watches as Uberto finally leaves, treading away slowly. Once he rounds the corner, out of sight (but not out of mind), the young Auditore whips his head to look at his father, who is regarding him with a curious expression.

“Father-”

“Come with me,” Giovanni cuts him off, turning away and heading towards the front door of the Palazzo.

 _“Someone’s_ in _trouble,”_ Federico teases, smirking in amusement.

Ezio’s eyes narrow as he turns to glare at his older brother. _“Fottiti!”_

_“Maleducato.”_

The younger Auditore shakes his head and starts walking towards the door himself, which had been left open by his father. As he steps inside, he hears Giovanni call, “Close the door.” Ezio’s eyebrow curls up just slightly, but nonetheless he obeys the command. Once the door is shut, he turns to face his father.

Giovanni is now sitting at his desk, completely ignoring the many stacks of paper crowding it and instead studying his son with a small frown.

Ezio decides there’s no use in beating around the bush if he wants to get this over with. “Is this about Vieri, or Christina?”

“Neither,” Giovanni answers- much to his son’s apparently visible surprise, as his father then laughs when seeing the look on his face. “Though those are things we will need to discuss at some point later today. No, this is about… something else.” He leans forward, settling his arms on what little space on his desk is clear of paper, and goes on, “I want to let you in on a little secret, _figlio mio_. One that has been a part of this family for ma-” Ezio’s father doesn’t get to finish, as Claudia barges in at that moment, seething with rage and yelling incomprehensibly.

Giovanni’s mouth creases into a frown at the interruption, but he doesn’t say anything as Claudia finally shouts something coherent. “Duccio’s been unfaithful, the _bastardo!”_

“Who told you this?” Ezio asks, settling his hand on her shoulder as she bursts into tears.

“The other girls!” Claudia wails, sobbing. Ezio can see the shattered look in her eyes, even through all the hatred, the anger, and something in his heart twists painfully.

_“Where is he!?”_

Claudia just shakes her head, unable to speak further, and Ezio pulls her into his arms. He feels someone else hugging the both of them as well, and he realises it’s his father- he must have gotten up from his desk at some point during all the shouting. The three of them stay like that for about a minute, and then Ezio can feel his father releasing them. In turn, the seventeen year-old Auditore lets go of his sister, though he does keep one hand on her back, rubbing it gently.

Ezio lifts his head to meet his father’s gaze. _“Mi dispiace,_ father- but I would like to have a _word_ with Claudia’s _coglione di un fidanzato.”_

The corner of Giovanni’s lip curls up just slightly. “Be sure to make the error of his ways _very_ clear to him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was not expecting to end this chapter with them all hugging it out, let alone Giovanni basically telling Ezio to go break Duccio's stupid face, but here we are XD


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain: Wait before starting to insert hints of romance, it's too _early_ for that! You have to build up to it first!
> 
> My ship-loving heart: Forget " it's too early", do it anyway, start dropping tiny little hints ASAP-

“Ezio, my frie- _arck!”_

Ezio ignores the stinging of his scabbed-over knuckles as his fist crashes right into Duccio’s nose, shattering it upon impact. The woman that Duccio had been making out with just seconds before runs off, screaming- as do some of the other civilians in the immediate vicinity. Some stick around though, already making bets on who will win the fight.

It quickly becomes clear who the winner will be, as Ezio doesn’t stop wailing on Duccio- smashing his fist into the other man’s stupid face (breaking a couple of his teeth in the process), and kicking him hard in the groin with the toe of his (technically _Leonardo’s_ , because the artist had lent it to him) boot. Finally, the young Auditore finishes off by grabbing Duccio by the hair and shoving his head down, at the same time bringing up his knee. There’s a painful _crack_ as the two moving objects make contact, and then Ezio lets go of the man, practically dropping him. Duccio lies on the ground, groaning, his face thoroughly bruised and bloodied.

“If you know what is good for you,” Ezio growls, kneeling down and yanking free Duccio’s money pouch, “you will _never_ come near my sister _again._ Do you understand me, you _figlio di puttana?”_

 _“Sì,”_ Duccio whines in pain, not moving from where he lies on the ground.

Ezio stands, looping the money pouch to his own belt before kicking the man hard in the ribs, snarling, _“Fottuto pezzo di merda.”_ And then he turns round and sprints across the street towards the nearest alley.

There’s little sense in sticking around for much longer.

~~~~

“Petruccio?” Ezio had just rounded the corner to see his younger brother out in the street, not far from the Palazzo walls’ entrance, still in his nightclothes. And he’s climbing onto a wooden crate, moving slowly, possibly to avoid over-exerting himself. “What are you doing up, _fratellino mio?”_

Petruccio points to the roof overhang several metres above him excitedly. “I want to get those feathers.”

“You’re supposed to be in bed, not climbing around on things,” Ezio tells him firmly, reaching up and wrapping his hands around Petruccio’s sides so he could pull him off the crate. He hears his younger brother release a huff as he then sets him down on the ground. “It’s for your own good, Petruccio-”

“I don’t like being in bed all the time. When will I get to do the things you and Federico do?”

Ezio sighs, kneeling down and ruffling the youngest Auditore’s hair. “I honestly do not know, _fratellino mio_. Soon, I hope- then all three of us can start racing each other. Who knows, you might even beat me and Federico!”

Petruccio flashes his brother a small smile.

“But for now, you need to be in bed,” Ezio says firmly.

“Fine…”

“In the meantime, I will go get the feathers for you- sound good?”

His little brother nods, his smile widening a bit. _“Grazie,_ Ezio!”

Ezio returns the grin, and then tells him, “Alright, off you go, before Annetta sees you’re no longer in bed.”

It takes less than a minute for Ezio to retrieve the feathers- he slides them into one of the pouches on his belt, and then sprints across the rooftops a bit, leaping from one to the next, his hazel eyes searching for any more feathers in the immediate vicinity he can bring back for his brother. He quickly finds several more, mostly along the edges of the overhangs where he could very easily leap into a wagon of hay below. Given the fragility of his cargo, however, he doesn’t- instead, Ezio races across the rooftops and then clambers back down to the street.

He chuckles to himself upon hearing someone across the street mutter, “Must be a drunken _wager_ or something.”

The young Auditore strides into the Palazzo courtyard and sees his mother tending to some of the vines growing along the wall. She doesn’t seem to notice, or at least acknowledge, his presence, and so he approaches the front door. He doesn’t open it- instead, he steps to the side and then scrambles up the wall, flinging his hands up and letting his fingers latch onto a windowsill. He effortlessly climbs up the rest of the way to where Petruccio’s bedroom window is- thankfully, it’s open to let in some fresh air, so Ezio hoists himself inside.

“Ezio!”

Ezio smiles, and opens up his pouch to pull out the feathers. Petruccio’s look of absolute joy causes the older Auditore’s grin to widen as he kneels down next to the bed and holds out the feathers to his brother, who removes them carefully from his open hand. “I don’t suppose you will tell me what these are for?”

“It’s a _secret!”_ Petruccio declares, holding the feathers close. He reaches for the small chest on the stand next to his bed and opens the lid before sliding the little feathers inside. He closes it, and then leans forward to throw his arms around Ezio’s neck. _“Grazie mille,_ brother.”

Ezio returns the hug. After a moment, when they release one another, he asks, “Do you know where Claudia and father are?”

Petruccio shakes his head no. _“Mi dispiace,_ Ezio- but I haven’t seen them.”

“You don’t need to apologise, _fratellino mio.”_ Upon seeing his little brother looking at him with an odd expression, Ezio feels inclined to ask, “What?”

“I’ve never seen you wear those clothes before,” Petruccio says.

Ezio’s face heats up upon realising that his little brother is referring to the clothes he’s wearing right now, the ones Leonardo lent to him. He’s lucky the rest of his family hasn’t said a word about it yet- maybe he should get changed real quick, so he can keep it that way.

“A friend gave them to me,” Ezio answers awkwardly, scratching the back of his head and silently praying that Petruccio won’t ask, won’t press further-

 _“Oooo!_ Who? Tell me, _per favore!”_

_Cazzo._

Ezio sighs, scratching the back of his head again as he replies, “Well, I went to visit Christina last night, and her father- well, he found me there in the morning. He was not exactly… _appreciative_ of me keeping his daughter company, so he sent his guards after me and they chased me a good long ways before I leapt into the nearest open window I saw. And that’s when I met Leonardo.”

As he continues to recount the time he spent with Leonardo, what all they talked about and did, Ezio begins to relax, and he quickly forgets about his earlier embarrassment at wearing the other man’s clothes. After all, they’re just clothes. Albeit, ill-fitting clothes, since they had been made for a man of smaller frame, but still. Just clothes.

Ezio can see Petruccio hanging onto his every word, can see the clockwork of thoughts turning in his little brother’s eyes. Although, when he finishes speaking, the last words he expects to hear are, “You talk about him like you do Christina.”

_What? What is that supposed to mean?_

“I… I don’t get it.”

“You have that same look on your face right now,” Petruccio tells him, the gears in his head clearly still running. “The same one you get while talking about Christina.”

Ezio shakes his head, and as he goes to stand, he winces at the stiffness in his muscles- he must’ve really lost track of time. Just how long had he been kneeling like that?? “Well… I will admit, he seems… interesting. For a painter. And an inventor.”

“Can I meet him?”

“Maybe. I think the two of you would get along pretty well.” Ezio reaches over and gently taps Petruccio’s nose, earning a small giggle from him. “Now, why don’t you get some sleep, hmm? And if I see any more feathers today, I’ll bring them to you, if you want.”

“I would like that.”

Ezio smiles.

~~~~

Claudia is in her bedroom, Ezio learns (after finally getting changed into his own clothes)- if the soft sobs floating through the locked door are anything to go by. After several minutes of gently knocking on the door, asking if she wanted to talk, and futilely trying to open it after receiving no response, he decides to leave her alone for the time being, and check on her later.

As to the current whereabouts of his father, Ezio still hasn’t the faintest.

He’s not in the house, that much is for certain. Nor is he in the courtyard. Ezio’s mother Maria is there, however, and so he decides to ask her if she knows where Giovanni is.

Maria shakes her head. “No- I have not seen him since this morning. But I’m certain he will be home soon. In the meantime, why don’t you take a walk with me? There is someone I would like for you to meet.”

 _And, I am sure, you would also like to scold me on our way there too,_ Ezio thinks. He merely gives his mother a nod, and follows after her as she strides out of the courtyard and into the street.

“So…”

_Here it comes._

“Your fight with Vieri yesterday.” Maria’s voice is dry as she speaks. “Ezio, you need to understand that there are consequences to your actions. _Always_. Every choice you make, even the smallest ones, can have repercussions.”

“He slandered our family’s name,” Ezio retorts as they round the corner and continue walking. He shivers from the chilly shadow of the roof overhang above. “I could not allow him to continue.”

“I’m sure he is having a hard time dealing with the accusations against his father. Francesco de’ Pazzi is many things- and none of them good. But I do not think any of us ever suspected he could be capable of _murder.”_

“Vieri was a _cazzo di culo_ long before his father was arrested.” Ezio sighs, settling his hands on his hips. “I imagine there will be a trial?”

“Indeed.”

“And father will speak at it?”

“He will have to. He’s the one with the evidence,” Maria answers, halting for a moment and surveying the street ahead, whipping her head left and then right. “This way, son.”

Ezio nods, despite the fact that she’s not even looking at him, and follows after her as she turns left. “Earlier today, my father was speaking to another man- Uberto Alberti. What do you know about him?”

His mother turns her head and looks at him now, an eyebrow raised in puzzlement. “He is a _Gonfaloniere,_ and one of Giovanni’s closest friends. I have met him a few times myself. He is friendly enough, I suppose. A little withdrawn, I think. But… I don’t know. As long as your father trusts him, then I see no reason for me not to as well.”

“When I met Uberto today,” Ezio says, his voice lowering slightly, “my second sight… I do not know what happened. It was as if it had a will of its own- and when I looked at him through it, he was red.” _An enemy_.

“Ezio.” Maria shakes her head.

“I _know_ what I _saw,_ mother. And I cannot shake this feeling…” The young Auditore pauses upon seeing they building he and his mother are approaching. _If I had known that it was here we would be coming,_ he thinks, _then I would have brought him his clothes back._

Ezio watches as his mother knocks gently on the door, and he can’t hold back the amused grin from his lips as he hears a crash of books and some cursing- the latter of which grows louder as the individual inside approaches the door. It swings open, and sure enough, there stands none other than Leonardo. _And he’s still pink. Very, very pink._

 _“Salute,_ Madonna Maria!” The painter exclaims excitedly, his lips breaking out into a wide smile. He leans forward and kisses each of her cheeks in greeting. When he pulls back, he sees Ezio and his eyes widen in apparent surprise. “Ezio! _Salute_ to you as well!” He bows, putting a hand to his chest.

Ezio returns the gesture, and says, _“Mi dispiace-_ I would have brought you your clothes back, but I had no idea we were coming here.”

Leonardo’s face scrunches just slightly and he laughs. “Keep them. I have more than enough to spare.” He pauses and then whirls around. “The paintings! Let me fetch them-” The inventor hurries back into his workshop, leaving his two guests alone for a moment.

“I see you two have already met,” Maria remarks, her eyebrow rising again.

 _“Sì_. We have,” Ezio replies purposefully vaguely. He is _not_ going to tell her how he _leapt_ through the man’s open window while _half-naked-_

“Indeed!” Leonardo’s voice jolts Ezio’s thoughts, and the Auditore silently prays in the hope that the _artista_ has enough sense not to bring it up- “He practically fell through my window while being chased by some guards. It made for quite the unusual morning!” _Grazie dio_ he at least left out the part where he was half-naked.

Ezio sees his mother giving him a look. “What?”

“You need to find another outlet,” Maria finally says, her voice blunt. “One that _isn’t_ vaginas.”

_“Mother…”_

Leonardo clears his throat awkwardly, and Ezio can tell by the look on his face that the man now regrets having said anything. The young Auditore frowns, and he reaches for the box in the other man’s arms, muttering, “I’ll take that.”

“Back to your house, then, yes?” Leonardo asks.

~~~~

After having said goodbye to Leonardo for the second time that day, and after getting a good long lecture from his mother about leaping through random open windows (and finding other outlets, of which he has plenty, thank you very much), Ezio strides into his father’s office, hoping that the man will be there.

And he is.

Giovanni, who was sitting at his desk moments before, quickly pushes himself to his feet. “Ah, son! I am glad you are here. Listen, I need you to deliver these letters to associates of mine throughout the city.” He picks up two envelopes and holds them out to Ezio. “Their locations are on the backs of these envelopes.” His son takes the two envelopes, but before he can respond, his father continues, “I also need you to retrieve a message for me from a pigeon coop not far from here.” He slides a paper slip across the desk and adds, “Its location is on this piece of paper.”

Ezio nods and takes the little piece of paper, pinching it between his fingers. He slides the times into the pouch on his belt, and he decides to take this opportunity to speak. “Father, there’s something I need to tell you, before I leave.”

 _“Per favore,_ deliver the letters and retrieve the message for me first,” Giovanni tells him firmly. “Then, when you return, we can talk. There are some things I still need to discuss with you, anyway.”

Ezio sighs. He supposes it can wait a little longer. Even if the feeling in his gut is telling him that this can’t wait, that he has to tell his father _right now._ “Alright,” the young Auditore finally says. “I’ll get it done.”

“And please. _Figlio mio._ Do try to stay out of trouble, hmm?”

Ezio’s lips curl into an uneasy smile. “I’m afraid I cannot make any promises, father.”

Giovanni laughs.

But Ezio can hear… something in his father’s voice. _Worry. He is worried about something._ And it only serves to heighten his son’s unease.


	4. Chapter 4

“Don’t worry, boy, we’re not _contagious.”_ The scruffy-looking man turns his head to regard the courtesan standing at his side with a raised eyebrow. “At least _I’m_ not.” The courtesan slaps him on the arm before they both turn to leave.

Ezio watches with some relief as they disappear into the crowds of the street beyond the courtyard. He shakes his head and turns, scrambling up the wall and latching his hands on a window sill. After climbing up several windows- and almost falling off a partially rotted lamppost- he manages to pull himself up over the roof’s edge and gets to his feet, boots _thunking_ against the tiles.

Sprint, leap. Sprint, leap. He almost slips on a puddle at one point, and then not even ten seconds or so later, he almost gets bombed on the head by a pigeon. Thankfully the stuff lands harmlessly on the roof tiles _next_ to him. Sprint, leap. Sprint, leap. And then he stops and lowers himself to one of the roofs below, where he can see a man in clothes not unlike the guy he met earlier- the one who’d been accompanied by a courtesan.

Ezio approaches him cautiously, envelope in hand. “I have a delivery from-”

“Giovanni Auditore?”

“Er… yes?”

“Were you followed?” the man asked, looking over the young Auditore’s shoulder with wide, terrified eyes. Ezio’s stomach twists as his unease and anxiety only builds further.

He glances over his own shoulder, and sees no one. “I don’t think so…?” Ezio turns his head back round to meet the other man’s wary gaze. “Why would I be followed?”

“Give me the package,” is all the man says.

 _Rude,_ Ezio thinks. He holds out the envelope to the guy anyway, who takes it.

“Tell your father they’re moving tonight. He should as well.”

“… who? Who’s moving?”

The man doesn’t answer- he pushes past Ezio, sprinting across the rooftop.

“Wait! I still have more questions!” But it’s too late- by that point, the man is already leaping off the edge. Ezio hears the sound of something landing in hay, and as he approaches the edge himself, he can see him hurtling out of the hay wagon below and then racing down the street. _“Che cazzo??”_

The number of questions running through Ezio’s head only increase exponentially when he retrieves the message from the pigeon coop for his father. As he stares down at the list of names on the slip of paper (why the hell were some of the _Pazzi_ family on this list?? _What is going on???_ ), he can feel all of his nerves catching on fire with his mounting anxiety.

Everything is just so damn _confusing_.

Ezio sighs, slipping the message into the pouch on his belt. He decides the only way he’s going to get answers to what’s going on is if he asks his father himself.

~~~~

“Father? Feder- _OW!!”_

Ezio is half bent over, clutching the back of his head in pain. It pounds harder and harder with every second that passes, and he’s sure he’s going to have a massive bruise later. Not to mention it’ll probably still be hurting like hell even _days_ from now. He whirls around and sees Annetta standing behind him, a peach-coloured vase perched in between her hands. “What was _that_ for?!” He is at least grateful the thing hadn’t shattered when she hit his head with it, otherwise he would be having a lot more than just a very painful bruise to contend with right now.

“Ser Ezio! _Mi dispiace-_ I-”

Ezio waves one hand in an attempt to reassure her, while rubbing the back of his head with the other. A bruise isn’t the end of the world. His eyes trail over the office, and his heart sinks into his stomach as he takes in the mess. His father’s desk and chair are overturned, as well as several other pieces of furniture. Books, paper, and envelopes- as well as pens- are all strewn across the floor. Puddles of ink stain the carpet, along with some dark red splotches that Ezio hopes _aren’t_ blood. “It’s fine, Annetta- what’s happened?? Where is everyone?”

“Ezio!”

Ezio’s eyes lock onto Claudia, who is standing beside their mother. Maria is sitting in a chair, her eyes staring blankly at nothing in particular, as if a part of her soul had just been ripped out and then torn to a thousand tiny shreds, to be blown away by the careless wind, and never to be found again.

“They took father away! To the Palazzo della Signoria- to prison,” Claudia explains hurriedly as she rushes to the other end of the office. She presses her hand to a panel on the wall underneath the mantel, and Ezio can only watch in shock (from both the sight and her words) as the section of wall slowly slides down. On the other side, he can just barely see Petruccio huddled behind one of the bookcases inside.

“You can come out now, Petruccio,” Claudia tells him softly. “It’s safe, for now.” He can see his little brother nod, and get to his feet shakily. In the dim lighting, Ezio can see Petruccio’s face his pale with fear. After Claudia wraps an arm protectively around the youngest Auditore, and leads him over to where their mother still sits, she tilts her head up to look at Ezio. “Father was able to distract the guards long enough for me to hide Petruccio. And mother…” Claudia tears up, and she pulls Maria closer to her as she releases a sob.

“She’s in shock,” Annetta murmurs. “They… when she resisted…”

Ezio swallows hard and clenches his fists, a heated anger rising in the pit of his stomach. “And Federico?”

“He hasn’t been home all day. But… it’s likely they’ve found him by now too.”

Ezio closes his eyes, his lungs and chest shuddering with every breath he takes. Everything feels like it’s suddenly spiraled out of control, his family’s whole world just shattered… “Is there someplace you can take them?”

“Claudia and I talked about it after the guards left,” Annetta answers, “and we feel the safest place would be at my sister’s.”

“Then take them there. In the meantime… I will see if I can talk to my father.” He settles his gaze on the secret room in which Claudia had hidden Petruccio. He feels almost… _drawn_ to it. But he doesn’t know why. _Diavolo,_ he doesn’t even know why that secret room is even there in the first place- what could his father possibly need with a secret room?? Still, he’s grateful that it had been there, otherwise the guards would have probably taken Petruccio too, had they found him.

“Be careful, Messer Ezio. The guards were looking for you as well,” Annetta tells him as she brushes past, approaching Claudia. She whispers something in his sister’s ear, and Ezio sees Claudia nod in response.

“You all be careful too,” Ezio replies.

“We will.” Annetta cautiously leads Ezio’s family out the door and into the courtyard. He watches silently as they disappear into the crowds, and his heart lurches. He hopes that Annetta’s sister doesn’t live too far, and that they can get there safely.

Ezio looks towards the secret room again as he feels that… _whatever it is_ tugging at him harder. He stumbles into the room, knowing that this is no time for distractions- but he can’t stop himself.

It’s as if someone else has torn the reins from him.

He kneels down in front of a wooden chest at the end of the room, underneath a glass-stained window in the wall, and he pushes open the lid. Ezio reaches his hand inside, and his fingers wrap around something made of heavy cloth. He settles his other hand inside and curls his fingers around more of the object before standing up.

 _“Che diavolo…?”_ Ezio stares uncomprehendingly at the article of clothing in his hands. He scrutinises the curved ivory beak of the hood and the heavy metal belt buckle and blood-red sash around the section where the wearer’s waist would be. He slides the robes and the belt over his arm and peers into the wooden chest again. There’s a broken bracer-like thing made of leather and metal at the bottom, along with a rolled-up scroll made from ancient parchment.

And underneath those lies a sword.

Ezio swallows hard as he unbuckles the belt of the robes and slides them over his body. It’s eerie, how easily the cloth settles around his body. While the robes don’t necessarily _fit_ him, since they are a little big on his body, at the same time… he feels as if they’d been meant for him. He re-buckles the belt, and kneels back down in front of the chest, He first removes the bracer thing and the scroll, and slides those into the folds of his robes for safe-keeping. Ezio then reaches back in and takes out the sword. The leather handle is cool against his palm, and as he tilts the blade in the dim light, he can see the faint scratches in the metal- indicating that this weapon had indeed seen battle before.

“Father… what _in nome di Dio_ have you been hiding from us?” Ezio murmurs as he studies the sword, before sliding the long, silvery blade underneath his belt. The only thing left in the chest is a small envelope. He removes that as well, and slides it into the folds of his robes where the strange bracer and the scroll are.

Ezio then pushes himself onto his feet, surveying the room one last time. He takes in the books on the shelves, wondering what they all are for. But his father would know. Sighing tiredly, the young Auditore slowly trudges out the secret room, through his father’s destroyed office, and then out into the courtyard of the Palazzo.

Two Florentine guards come charging through the entrance of the courtyard, their swords already drawn, a murderous light burning in their eyes. “Traitor!” the one on the right- who has the ugliest excuse for a moustache Ezio has ever had the displeasure of seeing with his own two eyes- snarls before lunging forward and swinging his sword.

“Hey! What’s with the swords!? Aren’t you supposed to just _arrest_ me??” Ezio draws his own sword in a flash, clumsily flinging the thing up to block the blow. He grips the handle with both hands, knuckles turning white with how tightly he’s holding it. Blades connect, and Ezio’s breaths start quickening with his mounting fear.

“No!”

Ezio scrambles away as the guard tries to slash him again, and the Auditore sprints past the both of them, out the courtyard, and into the street beyond. He sheathes his sword, and scrambles up a crate that’s pressed up against the side of a tall building. He can hear the guards shouting after him, their voices and the _thunks_ of their boots against stone quickly growing closer. He leaps to the beam in front of him, and doesn’t stop there- he then lunges for the top of a sign, and then a small balcony. Seconds later, Ezio is pulling himself up onto the roof, and without hesitation, he sprints across the tiles at full speed, heart pumping hard in his chest as the adrenaline flows freely through his body.

He slips when he’s about to jump to the roof ahead of him, and he’s sent plummeting into a mound of hay in a wagon directly below. Ezio instinctively curls into a ball, lest the guards decide to go poking around in the hay with one of their swords or something. Less than a minute later, he can hear thuds of feet hitting the ground, and then the guards shouting in anger. One of them does start poking their sword around in the hay, and despite Ezio’s effort to make himself as small as possible in order to stay hidden, the tip of the sword jabs at his leg, and he yelps.

“There he is! On him!”

Ezio hurls himself out of the mound of hay, bits of the stuff flying off his robes. He races down the street, shoving civilians out of the way while calling out apologies that more likely than not fall on deaf ears.

He just can’t seem to shake these guards. They’re still right behind him.

Ezio whips around a corner, into an alleyway, and hurtles himself up over the wall at the end. He hits the ground feet-first, grunting as a sharp pain shoots up his leg. He ignores it, and turns left, running at full speed. The guards are much farther behind him now- no doubt due to having had to contend with the wall in the alley. Ezio leaps, flinging his arms forward to catch the top of a windowsill. He swings one arm up to grab ahold of the lantern post above and pulls himself up, letting go of the windowsill at the same time, digging his fingernails into the wood of the lantern post.

From there, it’s a swift climb to the top of the roof. Boots hit the tiles, and Ezio is running again. He spots a wagon full of flower petals in the street on the other side of the building, and he jumps. He lands safely in the petals, and he shuffles around in the wagon a bit to make sure he’s completely covered.

Several minutes pass by, and nothing. No guards barking orders at each other, or running around and poking their swords in wagons. Nothing. Through the petals, he can hear the soft murmurs of conversation amongst the civilians- but that’s it.

He lost them, _finally._

Ezio fumbles around a bit, struggling to free himself from the petals. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he sprints down the street, petals flying from his robes. He can see the tower of the Palazzo Vecchio jutting up high in the sky. The tower where his father is being held prisoner.

Ezio swallows hard, and starts running even faster.

_I’m almost there… I’m almost there…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chase scenes are _very_ hard to write, lol-
> 
> Also, yes, as you can tell, this story is going to be extremely AU in several aspects. Believe me when I say these aren't the only major changes coming. I won't say what other changes are coming though, to avoid SpOiLeRs-


	5. Chapter 5

Ezio scampers past the guard- who has his back turned to him, and is standing by the stone wall, taking in the city below- and quickly makes his way to the final section of tower overlooking the roof. He scrambles up the closed tower door and latches his hands on the stone windowsill above. It’s a fairly short climb to his father’s cell- Ezio can hear the shuffling of cloth beyond the vertical metal bars he’s clinging to, and out from a shadowy corner of the cell emerges none other than Giovanni himself.

“Ezio…?”

“Father!” Ezio tightens his grip on the bars, more out of his barely masked anxiety than anything else. “What’s going on? Why did they take you? Do- did they capture Federico too??”

“I see you inspected the secret room in my office,” Giovanni observes, his eyes flicking to the ivory robes his son is clothed in. “They… they suit you…” He sighs, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I knew something like this would happen. Just not like this… and not so soon. Your mother, Claudia, and Petruccio-?”

“They’re safe,” Ezio tells him. “Annetta took them.”

“Good, good… as far as I know, they have yet to capture Federico. He was not at the house when you went home?”

Ezio shakes his head. “No, he wasn’t. I… do not know where he could possibly be… I just hope that he is safe…” There’s a very brief pause of silence as he considers what to say next. “Father, does Uberto Alberti have something to do with this?” He sees the look of confusion washing over his father’s face, and so the young Auditore continues, “I have reason to believe that he is an enemy to our family. My second sight- I don’t know why, but-” Ezio releases a shuddering sigh, struggling to find the right words. “I looked at him through my second sight, and he was _red.”_

“You… are you sure?”

“I _know_ what I saw. It wasn’t a mistake.”

Giovanni is silent for several seconds. “If you are right… then… he cannot be trusted to help us. If he’s with the Templars-”

“The _who??”_ Ezio stares at his father blankly, awaiting an answer.

“Listen,” Giovanni starts firmly, ignoring the question entirely. “There is someone else who might be able to help. A friend of the family. Leonardo da Vinci.” Upon seeing his son’s startled expression, he asks, “You know him?”

 _“Sì,”_ Ezio replies. “It’s… a long story.”

Giovanni snorts. “As much as I would love to hear it, we don’t have a lot of time. I presume you took everything from the chest?” When his son nods, he goes on, “Good. The envelope you took contains a letter, along with some documents. Leonardo might know someone you can take them to. Do you understand?”

“I do… father, who are the Templars? Are they-”

“Now is _not_ the time, Ezio,” Giovanni cuts him off. “I promise, I will explain everything when this is over- but please-” He whips his head around to look over his shoulder as something made of metal slams against something else. He turns his head to face Ezio again, a desperation in his eyes. _“Go_ , Ezio! Go _now_ , before the guards find you!”

~~~~

Ezio knocks hurriedly on Leonardo’s workshop door, his heart pounding harder with every passing second. He doesn’t have to wait long- a moment later, the door opens, and there stands none other than the inventor himself. He can see the concern and confusion washing over Leonardo’s features, but Ezio can’t bring himself to care. Before he can stop himself, he’s already pulling the painter into a hug, his breath hitching with fear. “I don’t know what’s going on- father- he said you could help-”

He can feel Leonardo wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him inside the workshop, and at the same time, he hears the door clicking shut, giving them some privacy away from prying eyes and snoopy ears. “Ezio… what’s happened?”

“They took father prisoner,” Ezio murmurs, his voice shaking. “They were looking for me and my brothers as well- and my mother- they- she, Claudia, and Petruccio are safe now, but-” He pulls back, eyes cast downward at the floor as he reaches a hand into the folds of his robes and pulls out the envelope. “My father said you would know who I should bring this to.”

He finally lifts his gaze as Leonardo carefully removes the envelope from his hand, and he watches as the _artista_ inspects it curiously. “These must be documents that can prove your family’s innocence- yes, _yes!_ I know who you can take these to!”

“You do?” A faint sliver of hope starts to soar in Ezio’s chest. “Who? Where?!”

“I will take you there,” Leonardo tells him, his voice firm and leaving no room for an argument. Of course, that doesn’t stop Ezio from trying.

“It’s not safe, Leonardo- if I am seen with you, they will surely label you as a coconspirator and have you arrested too.”

“You scale the rooftops often, no?”

 _What?_ Ezio stares at the inventor, earning a tired sigh from the other man. _Out of all the other things I could possibly be known for…_

“Here is what I am proposing,” Leonardo starts. “You will be up on the rooftops above, where you should have a decent view of where I am in the streets at all times. So, all you have to do is follow me- I will make sure to walk slow in case you don’t have a direct path between some of the rooftops, and you need to take a moment to find another way across- assuming you would not be able to make the jump without breaking something, that is. Problem solved! You won’t be seen with me, but you still will be able to follow me.”

The painter lifts his hand and settles it on Ezio’s shoulder. He squeezes gently and goes on, “There is no use trying to talk me out of it, amico. I’m not letting you do this alone.”

Ezio releases a huff. Leonardo is a stubborn man, he’ll give him that. “Fine… you win _this_ round.”

Leonardo’s eyebrow curls upwards, and he snorts. “I was not aware this was a competition.” He holds the envelope out towards the young Auditore, evidently intending for him to take it back. “Here- it will be safer with you than it will with me.”

“Alright…” Ezio takes back the envelope and slides it back into its hiding place in his robes. _“Grazie mille,_ Leonardo. For helping me.”

“It’s the least I can do, Ezio.” Leonardo turns away, mumbling to himself something about a money pouch as he starts rummaging around the pile of papers and books on his worktable.

 _I wonder,_ Ezio thinks in puzzlement as he turns the _artista’_ s earlier words over in his head, _what he could have meant by that?_ He watches the man pace about, and out of an air of caution, he lets his vision slip into his second sight.

Leonardo is… _orange?_

Ezio blinks as the saturation returns to the world around him, and Leonardo’s strange sun-like glow fades away into nothingness.

_What the hell does orange mean…?_

~~~~

Ezio has to admit, this idea of Leonardo’s was clever in its simplicity. Just as the painter had promised, he strolls slowly down the streets, making sure to pause at any corners he turns on to give the Auditore ample time to catch up if needs to.

Ezio watches from the post he is perched upon as Leonardo stops in the middle of a mostly empty square. The inventor approaches a small group of women- courtesans, by the looks of it- who are standing by a wall chatting with one another, and he pulls off his money pouch. The young Auditore raises both his eyebrows in confusion- what can the man possibly be _doing?_ After pouring some coins into his hand and sliding them into the waiting palm of one of the women, he points to a pair of guards who are across the square from them. Ezio follows Leonardo’s finger and understands. He must be paying the courtesans to distract the guards. That makes sense.

That also means this must be where their to-be ally is.

Ezio watches as the courtesans make their approach, and then lead the two guards away- no doubt to someplace a little more private. Leonardo then turns, tilting his head up towards the younger man and waving for him to come down- so the Auditore leaps into a wagon cart full of hay below, and pops back out seconds later, covered in the stuff. He sees the _artista_ staring at him with what seems to be a mix of panic and astonishment.

“For a moment there, I truly thought you were going to break your neck,” Leonardo tells him.

Ezio just shrugs. “Well, so far, it has yet to be broken.”

 _“Per favore,_ don’t tell me you do this on a _daily_ basis.”

“Alright- I won’t.”

Ezio feels bad when he sees the look of horror on the _artista’_ s face. He doesn’t get the chance to say anything more on the matter, however, as Leonardo says softly, “Follow me.” And so Ezio does. They approach a wooden door tucked into the corner of a building, with nothing but a lone lantern post right above it to wash the surrounding area in a soft, golden glow.

It’s at this moment that Ezio realises that night is now descending upon Firenze. He still can’t quite believe what all is going on- it’s all happening so fast, it feels like a dream. No. A _nightmare_.

Ezio watches, head tilted, as Leonardo knocks lightly on the door. Several seconds of silence pass by, and then he catches the scraping of boots against the floor inside.

The door swings finally open, and in the glow of the lantern post above, Ezio can see the man inside. He looks none too pleased to see Leonardo, if the heavy scowl on his face is anything to go by. The man looks vaguely familiar, and Ezio tries to recall when he might’ve seen him before.

 _“Per favore,”_ Leonardo speaks, “don’t close the door. We need your help-”

“Why? So you can drag my name through the mud further??” the man hisses, brown eyes narrowing as the heat in his irises only grew. _“Fottiti!”_

“Look, whatever quarrel you have with Leonardo, it doesn’t matter right now-” Ezio reaches into his robes and pulls out the envelope. It suddenly feels incredibly heavy in his hand, as if it’s being weighed down by lead. He ignores the feeling, and instead holds the envelope out to the man. He can see the bewildered expression spreading across his features. “My father was arrested earlier today. The guards are looking for my brothers and I as well. These are the documents that can prove our innocence.” Ezio’s voice starts to tremble a bit. “Please- help us.”

The man stares at the envelope for several seconds before lifting a hand and gently taking it. “You’re one of Giovanni Auditore’s sons?”

 _“Sì,”_ Ezio replies, his eyes flicking downward slightly.

Another few seconds pass by, and then he hears the man say, “Very well. I will help you, for my _uncle’s_ sake.” The young Auditore lifts his gaze, and the man clarifies, _“Zio_ Lorenzo.”

_“Grazie mille-”_

“Do not mention it. Seriously. _Don’t.”_

~~~~

Ezio leaps from the rooftop into the wagon of petals below. A moment later, he leaps out, and sees Leonardo’s expression of horror for the second time that evening.

“Ezio-”

“I know, I know… I could have broken my neck doing that. But as I said earlier, I have yet to do so.”

Leonardo’s eyebrow curls up slightly at the Auditore’s words. “That does not make me feel any better. In fact, that information is doing the _opposite._ One of these days, if your aim is off even just by a few _inches,_ you- you could very well have a lot more than just your neck broken.”

Ezio releases a huff as he and the _artista_ step into the workshop. Leonardo is such a _worrywart_. It’s… he doesn’t know how that makes him feel, honestly, to have someone _this_ concerned over his safety. Still… “I’m sorry. It’s something that I have been doing since my brother started teaching me how to climb when I was just a child. I have grown accustomed to it- the very idea that I could kill myself doing a Leap of Faith has rarely crossed my mind.”

Leonardo closes the workshop door as Ezio speaks, and when he turns back around, the young Auditore can see the painter’s look of confusion as their eyes meet.

“That’s what Federico calls it,” Ezio explains. “A Leap of Faith.”

“Well, it clearly lives up to its name,” Leonardo remarks almost blandly. He starts lighting the lanterns on the walls, one by one, silence seeping into the room for a moment. After the short pause, he asks, “Do you have anywhere that you can stay for the night?”

“Errr… well, I haven’t thought that far ahead.” Ezio shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal where he sleeps. “I’m sure I can figure something out…”

“I have a spare mattress upstairs- I can bring it down for me to sleep on, and you can have the bed,” Leonardo offers. “If you would like?”

“I can take the spare,” Ezio tells him.

 _“Ezio.”_ Leonardo crosses his arms, regarding the younger man with a stern expression.

The Auditore in question closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “This is _ridiculous.”_ He winces when he feels something poke at his ribs. He opens his eyes, remembering the broken bracer he’d found in his father’s chest. Ezio reaches into the folds of his robes and pulls it out, along with the scroll. “I do not suppose you know what to make of this?” He holds the two objects out to Leonardo, who carefully removes them from his hand and sets them down on the worktable- no doubt to get a better look.

“Hmmm… remarkable,” Leonardo murmurs, his eyes lighting up with intense fascination. “Despite its age, this bracer is clearly very complex in its design…” He unrolls the scroll and takes a look at the contents. “Fascinating… according to these sketches, it may very well…”

“‘It may very well’ what?”

_“Shhh!”_

“Leonardo,” Ezio presses- it’s in vain.

“Go to bed, Ezio- I’ll let you know when I am finished here.”

“But-”

Leonardo sends him something akin to a “get your ass to bed right now, young man” glare- the very same type of glare Ezio’s mother used to give him when he was a child. The Auditore huffs for the second time that evening, wondering if it had really been a good idea to give the man the bracer right then and there. Who knows how long he’ll stay up working on the thing?

_“Ezio…”_

That note of warning in Leonardo’s voice is what finally forces Ezio to leave the room, and he grumbles to himself in annoyance as he makes his way up the stairs. As soon as the _artista_ is all done with that stupid bracer, Ezio is going to make sure the man gets some damn sleep.

Regardless of whether Leonardo likes it or not.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is a little shorter than the previous ones kjsdjfjk

_< WARNING: Corrupted Memory File>__

_< WARNING: D̴͔͆͌͘e̴̢̤̭̟̒ş̵̡̻̜͝y̴̫͉͚͓̅̔̎n̶̻̠̩̭͒͗̾ċ̷̖̥̇h̶͓̊́̓̚r̸̡͍͚͇̉̿̋̓ȯ̶̢ṉ̵̨̦̒̓̇͘i̵̭̥̮͒̉ś̸̡̀ͅa̵̖̘̍͑͂t̸̩͈̫̐i̷̟̙̓o̷̢̡͂̊͘͜ṇ̷͍̝̌̉̇ e̴̬̍m̵̘͉͗͋̈́í̴̠͓̉̿͜n̷̥͔͈̗̆͐̂͝ę̸̲̂̍͝ñ̵͎̦̄͒t̴̲͓̓̾̍͝ ̴̧̡̮͈̍̾̀͝ >__

_“The hell is going on out there?!”_

_“I don’t know- part of this memory sequence is corrupted. Hang on, Des, I’ll try to-”_

The images collapse into white, and then the white collapses into blackness. Desmond’s eyelids slide open, and he releases a good long groan. _Damn_ , his body is _stiff._ Just how long had he been in the Animus- er, _Baby??_ His head is pounding too, as if feeling stiff _everywhere_ isn’t torture enough. He slowly sits up, wincing when he feels someone pulling the IV out of his arm.

He hears Lucy ask, “Are you okay, Desmond?”

“I feel like someone took a sledgehammer to my face,” Desmond answers, his mouth strangely dry and numb. His vision is blurry, though it is starting to clear up a bit now.

“Well, that would explain a lot of things,” Shaun says.

“Dick,” Desmond shoots back.

“Guys.” Lucy sounds exasperated, as well as tired. She looks tired too, Desmond thinks, as she turns her head away from Shaun to meet his gaze. “We’re not sure exactly what happened- what’s the last thing you remember from Ezio’s memories?”

Desmond is silent for several seconds as he tries to collect his thoughts and piece them together into something remotely coherent. “I… last thing I remember is that Ezio found and took the spare mattress from Leonardo’s closet in the loft, and then he just laid there for a while… not sure when he fell asleep. And then he started having this _nightmare_ where he’s out in… the Piazza della Signoria, was it? And they… they were gonna be hanged- Giovanni, Petruccio, Federico…”

“The weird thing is,” Rebecca speaks up from where she sits in front of her computer, tapping away at the keys, “it wasn’t just a nightmare. It’s a real memory. But it’s been heavily corrupted, and I don’t know _why…”_

“How can it be a _real memory??”_ Shaun demands, swiveling around in his chair to glare at her. “According to historical records, Ezio’s father and brothers lived well past 1476. And even _if_ they had all died that year, why would Ezio be remembering something that hasn’t even _happened_ yet?”

“I don’t know, that’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Rebecca tells him. “It’s probably for the same reason this part of Ezio’s memory is corrupted… but the code doesn’t lie. Whatever it was Ezio was experiencing, it was a memory.”

“So… should I go back in? Into the Animus, I mean?” Desmond asks. “Like, is there any way you can set it so I’m past the corrupted part of Ezio’s memory?”

“Until I figure out what corrupted that part of his memory, I don’t think that’s a good idea, Des,” Rebecca tells him. “Sorry.”

“I guess I could use the break anyway,” Desmond mutters, swinging his legs so he can plant his feet on the floor. He lifts his head to meet Lucy’s gaze again. “You look like you can use one too.”

“I’m sure I do,” Lucy tells him, lifting a hand and rubbing the side of her head. She winces just slightly at the contact. “I’m gonna go lie down, you guys. That ibuprofen isn’t helping at all… if anything, I think it’s made it _worse.”_

“Wait, what’s wrong?”

“Headache,” Lucy answers. “I’m sure getting some sleep will help. At least a little, anyway.” She pats Desmond on the shoulder and turns her gaze onto Rebecca. “Wake me up when you’re ready for him to go back in, okay?”

Rebecca nods in reply, and so after they all- even Shaun- wish her a good night, Lucy takes her leave. Her bedroom door slides shut behind her retreating form.

And that’s when Desmond realises, looking towards the pitch-black window, that it really is night. “Holy _shit-_ how long was I in the Animus??”

“Long enough to be starving, I’m sure,” Rebecca says. She fumbles around with the files on the floor next to her feet, and a moment later she lifts up a small cardboard box. The donut box. She holds it out to him expectantly, and he takes it gratefully. “You can have what’s left- Shaun and I gorged ourselves plenty already.”

“I can _hear_ you,” Shaun calls from where he sits at his computer.

Rebecca just snorts, a small smirk spread across her lips.

“Shouldn’t you guys get some rest too?” Desmond asks.

Shaun is the one who answers first. “There will be plenty of time for that when we’re _dead.”_

“He means that we have priorities other than sleep we need to be worrying about right now,” Rebecca explains. “And, for once, I actually agree with him.” She then turns her attention back to the computer in front of her.

Desmond suddenly feels awful. He knows it’s not necessarily _his_ fault, but he can’t help but feel terrible for this, for their situation. The least he can do, he thinks as he takes a bite out of one of the last donuts, is find some way to help them out. “Is there anything I can do to help you out?”

“Some _silence_ would be a start,” Shaun shoots at him.

“Shaun.” Rebecca’s tone is almost like that of a scolding mother, Desmond thinks with some amusement. She then turns her attention to Desmond. “Unless you have any experience with code or historical research, I don’t think there’s really anything you can do. Sorry.” She offers him an apologetic look. “Anyway, if you’re still hungry, there’s more food in the mini-fridge. Lucy picked up a lot of food while she was out, so we shouldn’t have to go out again to get supplies for a while.” Rebecca pauses and then adds, “Actually, there is something you can do to help.”

Desmond brightens up a bit at this piece of information. “What is it?”

“If you can get me the box of Cheez-Its and the peanut butter, that would be great.”

“…”

Well, playing food chauffeur is better than nothing, he supposes.

~~~~

It’s now midnight, Desmond notes from where he sits on the stool next to the desk, when glancing at the little clock on the upper right corner of Shaun’s computer screen. Rebecca couldn’t even keep her eyes open any longer, so she went to bed about an hour or so ago. Shaun is still up, although Desmond can tell the man is also struggling to stay awake.

“Ugh…” Shaun presses his hand to his forehead, wincing. Desmond opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong, but the Brit beats him to it. “Put some coffee on, will you? I think I’m starting to get a headache…”

“Maybe you should go to bed too, it’s getting pretty late-”

Shaun cuts him off before he can even finish. “Oh right, like this database entry is just going to _write itself_. You wanted to _help_ , Desmond? Then stop giving me useless advice and put on the bloody coffee already.”

Desmond, biting down his lower lip to keep from shooting back a retort that no doubt would result in an uneccessary argument that would also undoubtedly wake everyone else up, stands up and stalks into the makeshift kitchen. He releases a tired sigh and starts on the coffee. He dumps the old coffee grounds into the garbage, tapping on the back of the coffee filter to get as much of it out as possible before rinsing the rest out in the sink. He can’t help but wonder what the hell Shaun’s problem with him is. Granted, the man is kind of an asshole to Lucy and Rebecca too, but not nearly as much as he is to Desmond.

After dumping some fresh coffee grounds into the filter- enough for three people because he definitely needs some caffeine in his system too, and who knows, one of them might want seconds- and sliding it back into the coffee maker, he fills up the clear glass tank on the back with water. He presses the on button and heads back over to where Shaun is sitting while the coffee maker does its thing.

“Hey, do you want anything in your coffee or n-” Desmond stops talking when he sees Shaun is slumped over his desk, more specifically over his keyboard, fast asleep- if the awfully loud snoring is anything to go by. “…” He’s tempted to just leave the man there, for being such an ass to him both today and yesterday, but he steps closer anyway. Why, he has no damn clue. Maybe Desmond just wants to be nice to the guy- even if he’s a total dick, and probably wouldn’t care either way.

As he stands beside the sleeping historian’s chair, he hesitates a moment before settling one hand on Shaun’s back and the other on his chest. Carefully trying to avoid jostling the man and waking him up, he tilts the still-snoring Shaun backwards until he’s resting against the backrest. _Damn, he’s still asleep!_ And _he still sounds like a rusty old chainsaw._ Desmond then just shrugs. _Fine by me._ He then carefully takes Shaun’s wrists, moves them off the keyboard, and then settles them on the man’s lap. Once that’s all done, Desmond turns his attention to what Shaun had been typing when he’d fallen asleep.

It’s all gibberish.

Literally.

Gibberish.

Just _gibberish_.

It looks as if someone went “fuck short keysmashes,” and decided to go with an all-out, super long keysmash instead. Not surprising, considering Shaun fell asleep _on his keyboard_ , but it still gives him a bit of a start.

Shaking his head, Desmond decided to do the Brit a favour and get rid of the gibberish. Without further ado, he scrolls up to where the last actual word in the document is, right where the gibberish starts, and then selects. Once the huge chunk of gibberish is highlighted, he hits backspace.

There. That’s better. He doesn’t expect Shaun to thank him- hell, the man would probably murder him in his sleep if he knew he’d messed around with his computer. Probably best to not mention it. He’d rather _not_ get murdered in his sleep, thank you very much. Desmond saves the changes made to the document too, to be safe, and then- while yawning and stretching his arms, wincing as his elbows pop- decides to head over to the couch that’s way at the other end of the room. He seriously needs some sleep- and no, being in the Animus _doesn’t_ count.

As soon as Desmond flops onto the cool leather cushions, he just blacks out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's official- this fic is now a fix-it!


	7. Chapter 7

_He slashes the throat of the last heavily armoured guard who dares to stand between him and his quarry. He then watches as his target backs away, sword still poised high to block any incoming blows. Scarred lips curl into a smirk, and he swings his arm forward, the small blade protruding from his bracer_ clanking _loudly when coming into contact with that of his target’s sword._

_He rains blow after blow, and the man watching it all through his eyes, feeling each and every movement- even with the sensations somewhat dulled- can see the fractures of the world surrounding them, random objects flickering in and out of existence, and inexplicable white lines raining down from the sky._

_There’s a sort of_ glitch _\- for lack of better words- and the next thing he knows, his ancestor is gripping the front of the other man’s chest plate, holding said target over the edge of the wall. Waiting to greet his quarry with the cold embrace of death that is the ground hundreds of feet below._

**_“Requiescat in pace.”_ **

_And he lets go._

_He watches as his target plummets to his doom, screaming. And then, when he hits the ground, no more._

~~~~

Desmond munches and sips away on his breakfast, which consists of a bag of crackers and not-so-fresh-reheated coffee mixed with fresh coffee. Lucy was the first one to get up that morning, and found that _someone_ (that someone being Desmond) had made coffee last night and didn’t drink a drop of it. Rather than dumping it out and wasting it, she just reheated what was already in the pot and then added some fresh coffee to it so everyone would have enough to drink.

The rest of his team- who are now all awake- are sitting at their workspaces, also eating quietly. Rebecca is the first one to break the silence after swallowing a mouthful of cracker.

“I think I figured out how to stabilise the corrupted memory,” she explains. “I’ll type up a program and upload it to Baby, and see if that fixes the problem. It’s amazing what walking away from a problem for a little while and getting some sleep can do!”

“What about _where_ this memory was even coming from in the first place?” Shaun asks before sipping his coffee and wrinkling his nose in disgust. “You call _this_ coffee?? It tastes like _tar.”_

“I’m concerned by the fact that you know what tar tastes like,” Desmond remarks, trying not to laugh at his grumpy coworker’s reaction.

Although, he kind of has a point there.

This coffee does taste like shit. The creamer and sugar help a little, but still.

Shaun doesn’t hold back his scowl. “Oh, har har _har_ \- you think you’re _so_ funny, Desmond?”

“Just sayin’.”

“Yeah, well, you can _take_ your _asinine_ joke, and _shove i-”_

 _“Guys.”_ Lucy is pinching the bridge of her nose at this point, shaking her head while trying _not_ to spill the nearly overflowing coffee cup in her lap. “Can we _please_ focus??” She then lowers her hand and looks towards Rebecca. “Do you know where the memory might’ve come from?”

Rebecca shakes her head. “Not a clue, sorry. I’ll try to see if I can trace it, but- I can’t make any promises.”

After that, conversation then turns to their supplies.

“I hate to say this, but we really should start weaning ourselves off the coffee,” Lucy tells them. This earns her exasperated groans from everyone else in the room, so she goes on to explain, “Look, like with everything else here, we have a limited amount of it. So we _need_ to make our supplies _last_. The last thing we need is for one of us to have to go out again by the end of the week to restock, and then have Abstergo figure out where we are. It’s fine to have once in a while if we really need a boost, but we have to be careful too. Okay?”

There’s a brief pause of silence.

“Well, I can’t really argue with that,” Rebecca offers.

Shaun doesn’t even say anything- instead, he seems to have his attention focused solely on his computer.

“Me neither,” Desmond adds. “And anyway, this coffee tastes like _shit_ -”

 _“I’m_ concerned by the fact that you _know_ what shit _tastes_ like, Desmond,” Shaun shoots back, not taking his eyes off the screen in front of him.

Lucy groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. Rebecca just says she’ll get to work on typing up the program to stabilise Ezio’s corrupted memory now and then upload it to Baby. She probably figures the sooner she gets it done, the sooner Shaun and Desmond will stop butting heads.

“Shaun,” Desmond starts again, “any idea what _orange_ means?”

Shaun looks over at him as if he’s completely insane. Even Lucy is staring at him with a bewildered expression.

“Are you talking about the _colour_ or the _fruit?”_ The Brit asks dryly.

“The colour- when Ezio looked at Leonardo with his Eagle Vision, he was… well, _orange.”_

“…”

Shaun and Lucy look at each other for a long moment, and then look back at Desmond.

“Honestly, this is the first I’ve heard of anyone seeing another person as _orange_ through Eagle Vision,” Shaun finally answers.

“I’d have to agree with you there,” Lucy seconds. “Desmond, are you sure you’re not just mistaken?”

“I remember Ezio explicitly thinking _‘What the hell does orange mean?’”_ Desmond gives his best impression of an Italian accent, which is needless to say _absolutely horrendous-_ if the fact that _all_ three of his colleagues are now staring at him with utter bewilderment is anything to go by. “What?”

 _“Anyway…_ ” Shaun turns back round to focus his gaze on his computer screen. “I’ll look into it for you to see if I can find anything- if Ezio really did see Leonardo as orange… well, I’d like to know what it means too. For future reference, of course.”

“Alright, Des! Baby’s all ready for you, whenever you wanna hop back in,” Rebecca announces.

Desmond downs the last of his coffee and sets the mug along with his now empty bag of crackers on the nearby table.

“Perfect timing.”

~~~~

_< W̴̞̫̞̆̕A̸̳̦̖̋͝R̶̨̿̊͆Ṇ̸͚̟̈́I̴̢̙̭̼͌N̶̦̽̂G̸̪͓͚̓̓:̶̤̦̳̔̂͘͠ ̷̢̡͑̒ͅD̸̦̣̲̮̎͆̏̿ḛ̵͠ͅs̶͈̎̈y̷̪̼̲͉̎̆̂ń̶͇̜̘̕ć̵̭̠h̵͓͈̪͔̎r̵̼͍͎͠o̶̜͖͉̅̿͌̑ṅ̸̺͎̭̣̀̚i̶͕̫͆s̷̯̚ǎ̷͔̖̺̞̔͆̓ṫ̷͎̭i̷̡̢̳͈̓͝o̴̥̐̏̿͝n̵̮̞͉̒͠ ̴͉̮̘͋̂͛ê̸̺̑͐̽m̸̛̦̈́̈́͘į̶̡̰ͅn̷̪͍͕̂̔̕͝ë̵̻̰̮̮́n̸̦̫t̴̨̻̺̮̓̿>__

_< Ŵ̴̺̺̚A̶̮̓R̵͇͛͑Ṋ̷̪̓̑͜I̵̛̲͇Ñ̵͔G̶̛̼͂̆:̵̼̗̒ ̷͈̑͐̃D̶̯͎̒͐e̴̜̫̾͋s̶̳̏y̴̲̫̮̅̇n̵̤̎̎͘ĉ̸̜̬͝h̸̡̜̄r̶͇̪̓͘ọ̵͚̩̈́͝n̸͖̖̬͠i̶̖͋̃s̴̥͐ȧ̶͈ṫ̵̫̜i̵̙̋͌͜o̸͔͚̭̿n̸̻̝̊̈́͘ ̷̣͂͋͝a̶̭̩͓͗͝v̴̥͎̝̒͘͠e̷̙̯͑r̴̖̠ẗ̴͈̠̥̓͘e̸͆͛ͅd̸̞̜̈́̐>__

_< Memory Stabilised>__

_< Resuming Memory Playback>__

_“Ezio? Ezio!”_

Ezio’s eyelids feel sticky as they slide open, only to close again. His whole body aches with exhaustion, and he turns over on the mattress, mumbling, _“Altri cinque minuti…”_

The voice only grows more firm. “Ezio. Wake up, _per favore.”_

The Auditore finally rolls over, towards the voice, sleepy eyes sliding open once more. He can see with the help of the dim light streaming from beyond the bedroom Leonardo standing over him, something clutched in between his hands. A couple more seconds of staring, as his brain slowly starts to get up and running again, Ezio realises that it’s the bracer he’d given the inventor to take a look at.

“It’s finished!” Leonardo declares proudly.

“Did you get any sleep at all?” Ezio asks, his voice hoarse and rough from congestion. Leonardo just seems to ignore the query entirely, instead opting to grab the man by the arm and drag him across the room towards the stairs. “Leonardo?”

“I’ll sleep plenty when I’m dead,” the _artista_ offers nonchalantly as the two of them make their way down the staircase. The wooden boards creak with every step made, and Ezio screws his eyes shut, trying to shut out the irritating noise.

“That is not an answer,” Ezio argues as they finally reach the bottom of the stairs and he opens his eyes. His boots thunk against the wood floorboards- not as unpleasant as the creaking staircase, but it’s still certainly annoying.

Leonardo releases Ezio’s arm and then turns around, a frown creasing his lips. “Unfortunately, there is one small problem we will need to get out of the way before you can try out the bracer.”

“What are you talking about?” Ezio asks, eyebrows furrowing. “What small problem?”

“Well, you see, this bracer- according to the scroll you brought me- it’s called a _hidden blade,”_ Leonardo explains, now making his way towards the worktable. On it is a small butcher’s axe. Why the _artista_ even has one of those, Ezio has no clue. “The users of this blade needed to make a sacrifice before it could be used. That sacrifice being their ring finger.”

“So… wait… you’re saying-”

Leonardo nods. _“Mi dispiace,_ Ezio, but this is what must be done. Otherwise, you’d every likely impale your own finger with the blade, and _that_ I think would be much more painful.” He pulls out the chair beside the worktable, and gestures for Ezio to sit.

Reluctantly, with a weary, trembling sigh, the Auditore does so. After the dream he’d had earlier… in all honesty, losing a finger is a lot better than losing his brothers and father. He knows that the dream wasn’t real, but at the same time- losing them to the gallows, or to something else, is a very real possibility.

One that he needs to make sure will never come to pass.

 _“Bene,”_ Ezio murmurs, lifting his left hand and sticking out his ring finger across the wooden surface. He closes his eyes (in all honesty, he really doesn’t want to watch his own finger getting chopped off, thank you very much) and adds, “Make it quick, _per favore.”_

A couple of seconds pass, and his ears catch a _thunk._

But… there’s no pain? Ezio opens his eyes, and sees that the axe is buried in the wood _beside_ his finger. He whips his head up to look at Leonardo, eyes wide, and the painter bursts into laughter upon seeing his expression.

“What is so funny?” Ezio asks indignantly.

“Your face,” Leonardo answers in between giggles. “You should see your face, _amico-_ I-” He’s laughing so hard that he’s crying, and his to wipe his face a bit with his sleeve. Once he’s regained some semblance of control over his laughter, he explains, “I was only having fun, Ezio. Though the blade was originally designed to require such a sacrifice, it appears that whoever wrote this scroll has modified it.” He pats Ezio gently on the shoulder and goes on, smiling, “In other words, you can keep your finger.”

Ezio doesn’t know if he should be impressed that Leonardo managed to convince him that he needed to chop off his finger, or if he should be concerned for his friend’s sanity.

Probably both.

Leonardo then picks up the bracer- err, _hidden blade_ , Ezio mentally corrects himself- and then holds it out to the Auditore. “Go ahead. Try it on.”

“…” Ezio takes the bracer from the painter, shivering when his skin makes contact with the cool leather lining it. Leonardo helps him with the straps upon seeing the Auditore struggling to figure them out, and within a minute or two, the bracer is firmly attached to his lower arm. The inventor’s fingers don’t quite leave his arm yet, Ezio notes with some… _embarrassment?_ Why is he embarrassed? He shakes his head of the thought and instead focuses on what Leonardo says next.

“Keep your arm just like that,” Leonardo tells him as he tilts Ezio’s arm so that way his arm and hand is facing away from the both of them. Once satisfied with the position, his hands drop from the Auditore’s lower arm and Ezio manages to keep holding it up, despite how much his stiff muscles complain. “Now, I want you to tilt your wrist backwards- but try to stiffen the muscles in your lower arm at the same time. Otherwise the mechanism will not work,” the painter explains.

Ezio follows the other man’s directions, and with a soft _shink_ , the blade slides out. He can only stare at the sharp bit of metal in utter astonishment.

“To retract the blade, relax the muscles in your arm, and _slowly_ relax your wrist as well.”

And the blade pulls back into the bracer just as smoothly.

 _“Grazie mille,_ Leonardo,” Ezio murmurs, lowering his arm onto the worktable beside him. He looks up towards the _artista_ in question, and- despite the whole “I-need-to-chop-off-your-finger” joke- he offers him a small smile. “For everything.”

Leonardo smiles back at him. “Any time, Ezio. Any time.” His smile falls away, and then he adds, “Now, there’s the matter of getting you and your family out of Firenze. Even though the documents proving your family’s innocence are safely in Medici hands, the guards will very likely continue to harass you.”

“How do you know that?”

“… past experience,” Leonardo answers vaguely. “I’d rather not talk about it. And then there’s still the matter of _who_ made the accusations of treason against your family in the first place.”

Ezio’s eyebrows furrow. “I… I do not know who made those accusations, but- I think I know of someone who can tell me.” He gets to his feet, boots scraping against the floor. “Do you know where Uberto Alberti lives?”

“Yes, I do, but…” Leonardo’s frown deepens. “Wait… what are you planning to do?”

“To get some answers,” Ezio replies, reaching for the ivory hood of his robes and pulling it low over his head. “This time, I must ask you to stay here, where it’s safe.” Leonardo opens his mouth to protest, but the Auditore doesn’t let him finish. “If I am not back by the time my father is released, promise me that you will make the necessary arrangements to get my family out of Firenze. I have an uncle- Mario Auditore- who owns a Villa in Monteriggioni. That’s the safest place I can think of right now.”

“Ezio-”

 _“Promise_ me.”

Leonardo’s eyes flick downwards slightly. “Very well.” And then he lifts his gaze back up to meet Ezio’s. “But you must promise me that you will _try_ to stay safe,” the _artista_ says firmly.

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: For those of you who saw an update- I accidentally uploaded a new chapter to the wrong fic XD Sorry about that, you guys kjsdkjfjkhjghfj 
> 
> Note to self for future reference- double check what work I'm updating to make sure I'm updating the right one XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter's not the best. I'd taken a break from working on it for a couple of days or so, so if my writing towards the end feels awkward and stuff, then that's why. 
> 
> Also, special thanks to LezioEnthusiast for helping me out with this chapter. Sorry it didn't turn out exactly the way as expected- I hope you still enjoy this chapter nonetheless!

Ezio clambers up the wall, and then pulls himself up over the edge of the rooftop. His boots _clunk_ against the tiles as he pushes himself up onto his feet and sprints across the roof. It’s now early morning- the sun is very low in the sky, and the uncomfortably chilly air seeps through the layers of his robes.

He leaps from roof to roof, only slowing down when he has to hoist himself up over the edge.

The streets of Firenze are beginning to stir once more with activity, the civilians below walking down the roads, lit lanterns in hand, and the occasional murmurs of conversation wafting their way up to the rooftops above. Ezio catches the sound of a minstrel singing and strumming his lute for some poor, helpless civilian somewhere down below. The young Auditore can only cringe at the irritating noise.

He tunes out the annoying racket and just leaps to the next rooftop.

After crossing to the other side, Ezio drops down so he’s hanging from the edge of the roof. He slowly lowers himself down the wall, inch by inch, and then stops when his boots hit a wooden scaffolding beneath him. He releases the wall and crouches down, tiptoeing across the narrow beam leading from the scaffolding of this building to that of the next. And then from there, he leaps into a wagon below filled with flower petals.

He hops out, landing on his feet with a soft _thud_ , petals coming loose from his robes and fluttering silently to the ground. Just as silently, Ezio treads across the street towards Uberto’s door. He then knocks on it, the wood creaking a bit under the weight of his fist. And then he steps off to the side, and waits.

After a moment, the door swings open, and the Auditore barges his way in, shoving Uberto to the floor as he does so. He kicks the door shut behind him and glowers down at the older man, his hidden blade engaged and ready to strike.

 _“Why was my father arrested?”_ Ezio growls, placing a boot on Uberto’s chest to keep him from running. “Why did the guards come after my family? And what do these ‘Templars’- or whatever the hell they’re called- have to do with all of this?? Are they the ones who sent the guards?!”

Uberto glares right back at the young Auditore, not a single word leaving his lips.

_“Tell me!!”_

“Uberto? Is everything alright??”

Ezio’s heart stops when he hears the voice calling from upstairs. Evidently, Uberto doesn’t live alone. He removes his boot from the man’s chest, and then grabs the front of his robes instead, yanking him to his feet. “You will tell her that everything is fine,” Ezio commands in a low hiss, pressing his blade against Uberto’s abdomen- not hard enough to cause any damage, but enough so that way his captive knows that trying to escape isn’t a good idea. “Tell her you are just going for a walk.”

“Everything is fine,” Uberto calls to the woman upstairs. “I’m just going for a walk.”

“You, a _walk?!”_ The woman’s laughter echoes softly down the stairs. “Well, at least it’s good weather…”

Ezio doesn’t wait for her to finish- he’s already dragging Uberto out the door and into the street. He pulls the man into an alley and throws him against a wall. This time he settles his hidden blade against Uberto’s throat.

“Tell me _everything_ you know _,_ or I will slit your throat and leave you here to bleed out on the street,” Ezio snarls, eyes narrowed.

“Your father Giovanni is the one with the evidence suggesting Francesco de’ Pazzi had committed murder,” Uberto answers in a whisper. “But Francesco is an essential part of our plan, and so we could not allow him to be convicted and executed.”

“What plan?” The older man hesitates, and Ezio growls a bit louder, _“What_ plan??”

Uberto opens his mouth to speak again, but a shout from the end of the alley way cuts him off.

_“There! On him!”_

Ezio whirls around and quickly shoves Uberto into the three Florentine guards who dared to interrupt the interrogation. Part of him hopes that the man got impaled by one of their swords or something, but he doesn’t stick around to find out- Ezio turns on his heel and sprints down the alley, splashing up water as he runs through a puddle or two.

A few seconds later, and he can hear the rushing of guards behind him.

_“There he is! Don’t let him get away!”_

The young Auditore whips around a corner, and then whirls around another further down- which leads into a much wider street. A minstrel, much to Ezio’s horror and annoyance, runs up to him and starts strumming away, singing only _Dio_ knows what. Ezio grabs the lute player by the front of his vest and throws him into the guards behind him, who’d just caught up with him.

The minstrel cries almost pitifully, _“But- but I love you, noble lord!”_

_Almost._

Ezio takes this opportunity to sprint down the street, and as he turns into another alleyway, he spots a cart full of hay. And he just about hurls himself in. Seconds later, he can hear one of the guards approaching, muttering angrily under his breath. As soon as the guard sticks his sword in the hay, to start poking around, Ezio reaches out with one hand, grabbing the man’s uniform.

“Hey, let me go- _grrck-!!”_

Ezio lifts the rest of the upper half of his body out of the wagon and in one fluid motion, he drives the hidden blade deep into the guard’s throat, killing him instantly. He then gives the now dead man’s body a tug, and pulls it into the hay with him. He kicks the body away a bit, trying to shove it to one corner of the cart- and then he curls into a ball, pressing himself against the opposite corner of the wagon. He tries not to think too much, about the fact that he just killed another person- _and_ desecrated said person’s body, to boot.

Ezio reminds himself that this could very easily have been one of the guards who’d been sent to his family’s house, and any regret he had for killing this man instantly dissolves.

He stays like that for several minutes, just hiding in the hay, hoping the guards won’t find him here. When he hears nothing, save for the intermittent footsteps of passerby civilians, along with their chatter, he decides that it’s probably safe now. And so Ezio hops out of the wagon, some of the hay sticking to his robes. He sprints out of the alley and down the street, heart pounding against his chest.

So many questions still remain, and only _one_ of them has been answered so far. And in turn, that answer has brought only more questions.

What plan had Uberto been talking about? And why is Francesco so important to it? Evidently, Francesco’s part to play is important enough to where they sent the Florentine guard to the Auditore Palazzo to arrest Ezio and his family.

 _Important enough to where they could have all been_ executed _… no- no- it was only a nightmare. Nothing more._

Uneasy knots twist in Ezio’s stomach as his thoughts turn back to the nightmare. Unlike most of his dreams, which are usually very disjointed to say the least- and sometimes quite nonsensical, to boot- this one had been particularly… vivid. Structured. _Real_. The knots in Ezio’s stomach twist further, and so he forces himself to focus. To focus on the present, and what he needs to do _next_.

So he starts making his way back to Leonardo’s workshop, sticking to the shadows (although soon enough it won’t matter, as the sun is rising higher and higher in the sky, which will make it a lot harder to stay hidden for sure), and sinking back into his second sight frequently, to make sure he doesn’t run into any more Florentine guards. Finally, Ezio reaches the inventor’s workshop door, and he knocks.

No answer.

Ezio knocks again, this time a bit harder for good measure- and still, nothing. The young Auditore drifts back into his second sight once more, the saturation fading from his vision. Even with his second sight, he finds no sign of Leonardo’s presence- not in the workshop if he looks through one of the windows, and certainly not in the small courtyard next to it. What he does find, upon glancing towards the ground, is splashes of orange and blue, side by side, leading from Leonardo’s workshop door to the street, and possibly beyond.

_Interesting…_

Very interesting, to say the least. This is the first time Ezio’s second sight has done this- but he’s not about to complain, if it leads him to the _artista’_ s current whereabouts. And so he starts jogging down the street, eyes flicking downward frequently to make sure he’s still following the trails of coloured light.

~~~~

Ezio looks the brothel building up and down, eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion. Why would Leonardo come here, of all places? What is he even _doing_ here? He tilts his head down again, and sure enough, the orange and blue streaks of light lead into the brothel. He also notes that there are more blue streaks on the ground now as well, leading from elsewhere in the street.

The Auditore shakes his head and steps up to the door. He knocks, and waits. A moment later, the door swings open, and a familiar face greets him.

“Annetta!”

“Ezio! Hurry- inside, now!”

Ezio doesn’t need to be told twice- he allows Annetta to usher him inside, and as she shuts the door silently behind them, the young Auditore finds himself being pulled into a tight hug.

It takes him a full three seconds to realise it’s his father.

Ezio returns the hug and then- after a brief moment- he pulls away, his expression unreadable. “I’m glad you are safe.” He takes a moment to look around the room- in addition to some unoccupied courtesans, he can see that all his family are here, all huddled on one of the longer couches by the blazing fireplace. All of them, except for Federico. Ezio’s stomach sinks. “Federico is not here?”

“No,” Giovanni answers, his voice low. “You have not seen him?”

“I haven’t,” Ezio replies.

“Ezio!” The younger Auditore peers around his father to see Leonardo and Paola standing there behind Giovanni. “I’m happy to see you made it here safely, _amico._ We have been discussing how to get you and your family safely out of Firenze-”

“Unfortunately, I myself cannot leave just yet,” Giovanni cuts in. “I still need to present the evidence at Francesco’s trial.”

“But Uberto told me that’s exactly _why_ you were arrested, father,” Ezio retorts. “With you and the rest of our family out of the way, Francesco wouldn’t be convicted. He and his allies would _still_ be able to carry out their plan… whatever that plan is.”

“Ezio is right,” Paola speaks up. “Since having you _arrested_ did not work, it’s likely they will attempt to deal with the situation another way. I know it’s not ideal, and that by leaving, the Florentine guard will have no choice but to release Francesco. But it is no longer safe for any of you to remain here in Firenze. You must all leave for Monteriggioni.”

“The rest of my family, yes,” Ezio replies. “But Federico is still missing- I need to find him.”

“We will do our best to look for him, Ezio,” Paola tells him. “But right now, getting you out of Firenze is our most immediate concern. I know someone who might be able to help us arrange for you all to leave-”

Ezio releases a huff, his fists clenching just slightly, head tilting down towards the floor. His mind flashes back to his nightmare, to that one brief, horrific image, of the bodies of his father and brothers dangling side by side, their necks broken from the nooses-

Ezio’s stomach lurches sickeningly, and he shakes his head. “I’m sorry. But I will not leave Firenze until I _know_ he is safe,” he retorts.

“I should still stay here, then- not for Francesco’s trial, but to find my son,” Giovanni speaks up again. “And Ezio, you should still leave. It is _not_ safe for you remain here in Firenze.”

“Nor is it for you.”

“You will go with your mother, sister, and brother- and that is final. As I said before, it is not safe for you to remain here-”

“Not safe for _me,”_ Ezio starts, raising his hand and poking his father hard in the chest as he adds, “or not convenient for _you??_ I may be _inexperienced,_ father, but I’m not _stupid_. I can take care of myself-”

“The _fact_ that you constantly get into _fights_ with Vieri, and are often _chased_ by the guards hired by the father of a young lady seems to tell me _otherwise!”_

Giovanni’s voice is slowly rising in volume, and so Ezio raises his own to match it. “This has absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that I sometimes get myself into less than ideal situations and have to get myself out! _You_ just _have_ to be the _man_ of the house, and _I_ have to be the _child!”_

Leonardo steps in between them, placing his hands on both of their chests and pushing them apart a bit. “That is _enough_. Both of you! _Every_ second that the two of you _waste_ arguing is a second that could mean the difference between life and death for Federico.”

Ezio’s body deflates just slightly. Leonardo is right… the longer he indulges his father in this _pointless_ argument, the lower the chances they’ll find his brother alive.

And so he whirls around, striding towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Leonardo asks, slight puzzlement in his voice.

Ezio’s hand settles on the door handle, and he turns his head to look at them from underneath his hood. “To find my brother.” His eyes flick up to meet Giovanni’s, and he goes on, “And I do not care _what_ you say, what other _excuses_ you might have to offer. You are _not_ going to stop me.”


End file.
